Caught Escaping
by PrincessDesire
Summary: Sequel to Manly Wager. Beast is tired of being lonely and just needs to escape the mansion for a while. He and Wolverine tag along with Rogue on her trip back home.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Watch the amazing PrincessDesire as she switches randomly between movieverse, cartoonverse, and comicverse! Bwahaha! Rogue was dating Gambit but she also has parents that love her? What is this madness? Well, it comes down to the fact that there have been so many variations of the characters that I'm picking and choosing what I want. I chose this pairing because I wanted the challenge of making a slash pairing between two very straight characters and still being in character. "In character" is tricky when there are so many series from which to choose. Anyway, ramble winding down...

* * *

Things did not become weird between Logan and Hank after the events that had transpired during Logan's slavish repayment. Though the whole face-sucking incident had left lingering questions in both their minds, it had not undone the overall bonding that the evening had caused. That night Hank had revealed a part of himself that no one had seen before; that was not taken lightly by Logan who was so closed off himself. The next morning things had been just as dandy as ever between the two, as if that burst of sexual fire hadn't been unleashed and as the weeks passed, neither mentioned it nor made a move to reinitiate anything.

The only thing that changed was that occasionally Logan accompanied Hank on his trips to the Barracuda Bar and Lounge. He never went without Hank, careful not to encroach on another man's sanctuary. The two quickly became the talk of the bar. Many of the denizens of the bar would come to watch them play, eager to view their prowess and laugh at their trash-talk. Through this method of socialization, Logan became better acquainted with Hank's friends. He found that he still hated Chris, the drunken overly-friendly twirp, as much as he did when they first met. The bartender Tommy tended to be a bit on the dumb side, but he was a nice enough fellow. Logan liked the bar's proprietor Connie the best of all the new folks he'd met. She was in her mid-forties and knew swear words that even he hadn't heard before. She indulged his evil streak by sharing stories of Hank so drunk that he'd created stories for her to tell. These amused Logan as much as they embarrassed Hank. The people at the bar had no way of knowing how uncharacteristic that kind of behavior was for him. As much as it had pleased Logan to discover that there was more depth to Hank, he had still felt a little irked that Hank felt uncomfortable revealing that to the Xmen.

Still, Logan was obviously respected enough to be let in on this side and he'd be a fucking hypocrite to judge Hank for any defense mechanisms, so he kept his mouth shut about it. It was Hank's life, or double-life as it were.

"How is it that you've gotten worse at this with practice?" Logan asked while watching Hank straighten up from the pool table. He'd missed yet another shot.

A sheepish look appeared on Hank's face. It wasn't a frequent expression for the serious mutant. "I felt that I couldn't say anything at the time, but I played better that night than I ever have."

Logan shook his head and growled. "Just my luck." He had taken Hank to be some kind of a pool pro. He didn't have much room to talk having had extraordinary luck himself that night, but it irked him that maybe the universe had conspired to make him Hank's bitch for that 24 hours.

This was the first time their bet had come up since that night. Amazingly, there was no awkwardness at the subject, though Hank's mind did drift a little to those passionate hallway kisses. Even though this particular memory had served to fuel a good number of erotic fantasies since, he had made no move to repeat the incident. He hadn't even felt the urge to try. There was no use trying to recreate a scenario which had grown organically before. It had felt natural at the time, comfortable and, though vastly strange, familiar. If he approached Logan now, he knew that it would feel fake, maybe even dirty. More than that, even though it had felt so good at the time, Hank was still a bit disturbed over the implications of his enjoying what they'd done.

"My lab cupboards have never gleamed before. Honestly Logan, you should consider a job in the custodial field." He kept his face straight as he met Logan's eyes, which was tricky because he was so amused by his own joke. "And if you stick to the lace apron, you might receive more impressive tips."

Logan was unhappy with the mention of the apron in a public place, even so empty of one, and demonstrated that with the look he shot Hank. It seemed to Logan that his friend was becoming immune to the glares that others took serious fear in receiving.

Hank might very well have brought it up even if they had had listeners, but his potential for mayhem was not revealed since their conversation was private. "Are you not proud of your domestic qualifications?" he asked in a mock innocent voice.

"Tell me something fuzzy," said Logan in a lower voice. He leaned slightly towards the large blue man. "How much of that stuff would you have made me do if I hadn't said what I did that night?"

Hank was stumped as to what his friend was referring. He hadn't taken any offense that night, had he? "I'm afraid that you'll have to narrow my options. It seems to me that I could have taken offense to nearly everything you said that night." After a deliberate pause of consideration he added, "Or ever."

The bar door jingled as it opened. They were at the Barracuda early; it was still afternoon and the loud drinkers wouldn't be in for several hours yet. Logan had only just met the daytime bartender when they had come in; even Hank didn't seem to know the man very well. He was wiry and more serious than Tommy, the bartender Logan and Hank were accustomed to.

In a way, Hank preferred the Barracuda during the day. He didn't like always coming back to the mansion with ears ringing and reeking of tobacco or clove cigarettes. The few people that were in (there were two at the moment) during the afternoon tended to be the serious drinkers. They were quiet and gazed at his odd physical appearance with sad, heavy-looking eyes. Their looks disturbed Hank less for the hopelessness he saw than for the recognition he felt. It was definitely more enjoyable to be here with Logan, though most things were.

Logan was leaning back against the wall next to a jutting shelf of empty beer bottles. His hair was slicked up into those silly hair horns. Holding the pool cue as if it were an extension of himself, Logan looked relaxed and comfortable in a way that Hank frequently envied. For just a fanciful moment, Hank imagined Logan as the singer of a metal band. The stick became a microphone, the light-up beer signs stage lighting. Wolverine was just so cool, as the kids would say.

"I mean that thing I said about Stormy," said Logan. Hank didn't follow. He'd been so caught up in his imagination that he'd lost the thread of the conversation. He blinked at Logan. "You know, blue men…switching…" Ah yes, now he remembered. It had been a harsh insult at the time. Logan had mentioned that Storm had switched blue furry men, not realizing how troubling that fact was to Hank. As soon as he'd told Logan that it bothered him though, Logan had apologized, twice if Hank recalled correctly.

Hank waved a dismissive hand. "No foul on that Logan. Then again, women always seem to be _that line_ don't they?"

Logan snorted. "They invented that line Bub."

"Anyway, I don't believe that your experience as a slave was as harrowing as you now claim." Hank was actually a bit relieved that they were talking about it. It had seemed to be taboo between them and he was glad that it had been merely his perception of events.

"Oh yeah? You didn't see the skid marks on those briefs!"

Logan smiled at the horrified reaction to his crude remark.

* * *

"You sure that's a good idea?" asked Logan.

Rogue nodded as she replied, "best I've had in a long while."

The two were chatting in one of the school's many gardens. The sound of children playing nearby gave the day a gay atmosphere despite the serious nature of Rogue's recent decision. She was sitting on a bench that Logan was leaning against. He had one hand in the back pocket of his tattered jeans; if he stretched his fingers enough he could feel the hole that rendered the pocket useless for carrying small objects.

Rogue wanted to go home to see her parents in Mississippi. Since she had run away she had been sending them occasional letters of vague content to let them know that she was okay. They tried to assure her that they knew that she wasn't responsible for Cod's coma and that they wanted her to come home. If she'd only give them her address, they'd come and get her themselves. Of course, they were inviting their non-mutant daughter Marie home, but that's not who would have been there. Rogue knew too much now to return home. She'd lived amongst mutants, seen where she fit amongst them, and spent too long thinking for herself. When she'd come to the school, long before she'd turned eighteen, Professor Xavier had encouraged her independence. There were house rules just like any boarding school, but she was aware these were necessary for peace amongst people living in close quarters. She was accustomed to being treated as an adult, a mutant adult.

This latest breakup with Remy had been a jolting reminder to her of how quickly love could turn to emptiness. It had made her miss her parents. In a way she just wanted to pour her heart out while safe in her mom's arms. Maybe she would finally come clean to them. She would see how she felt about them before she made any decisions. Either way, she knew seeing them would be a positive thing for her soul.

"Maybe I should tag along," Logan suggested.

"I think I can handle myself Logan!"

Logan smiled at the ruffled feathers of his young friend. He didn't like the idea of her going home to a house full of mutant haters. Her parents disgust over mutation had prompted her to runaway rather than to explain that she was one. That made him distrustful of them and the effect they could have on her. She was so strong and spunky. He did not want a conflict with her parents to break her.

"Wasn't saying you couldn't. It's just… well, you know how antsy I get staying in one place for too long. And I hear that Mississippi is quite the tourist spot."

Rogue gave him a half-smile, appreciating the cover story. "I think I'd prefer to go alone."

Logan frowned. "Have it your way, but if you change your mind…" He let the rest of the sentence drift off into the warm spring afternoon. Worried or not, she was her own person, and he'd shut the hell up about her decision.

* * *

Hank had been laying low in his room lately. There were plenty of tasks that he'd been putting off doing that could be done outside his lab. The stack of books and papers on his desk provided him all the busy work that he could desire. He was reacting in a very counterproductive way to his own loneliness. He recognized that staying by himself in order to counter his isolation was ineffectual, but it was what he wanted. Somehow being around all the happy children at the school only made him feel more apart from his comrades, which was a sad commentary in an establishment for outcasts.

He set the fine-tipped pen atop the paper with a clack and sighed. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his closed eyes with furry palms. He'd eaten dinner by himself, the dirty plate and utensils resting atop a mound of books next to the door. It wasn't even eight pm and he was contemplating going to sleep. The nights were too long in the eight months since Ororo had last shared his bed.

He felt an overwhelming urge to get out.

In a blue blur, he snatched up his coat and hat, turned off the lights, and left his room. At a brisk pace, he passed many closed doors on his way to the staircase. The adult wing was empty since most of them wouldn't head up this direction until settling in for the evening. It was a different situation downstairs. Many kids were scattered about talking or playing games. The couch was buried beneath a mass of pre-adolescent bodies all eager to watch television. He viewed them with his peripheral vision, for he kept his head straight not wanting to attract attention. He willed himself to be invisible, not wanting to engage in small talk with anyone. He moved to the front parlor unmolested and nearly smiled as the cool night air came in from the door that he'd just opened. Outside there were a few stragglers, but he'd only received a wave or two, no attempts at conversation.

The moon was blocked by the clouds in a way that looked like a giant Alkaseltzer in the sky. It smelled like rain. Hank hiked the collar up higher on his neck, though the rain had yet to start. The beauty of the night reminded him of times that he didn't want to think about. Wasn't that why he had come for a walk? To get those assailing memories of her out of his head? His heart lately had felt so small. It was the being alone, which he had been years before his romance with Ororo, but this time the pain that was brought forth by the loneliness was acute. It was knowing what you could have but not having it. He tried to think about work as step by step he walked further from the lights of the X-mansion. Perhaps it was the beast in him, but he never had a problem with the dark.

He became aware of a crunching noise behind him. Having fighter's instincts trained into him at the school, he did not immediately turn around, instead he tried to evaluate the steps that he heard behind him. It was one person, someone with a good amount of weight on him judging from the loud thuds on the pavement. It was not someone trying to sneak up behind him, unless the person believed him deaf. So, feeling non-threatened, he decided to turn around and see who it was that had followed him into the street.

In the darkness he saw the familiar form of his best friend, pointed hair sticking up in places. He could even see the hair on Logan's arms silhouetted by the mansion's distant lights. "Following me now Logan?"

Logan replied, "I couldn't tell whether you wanted time alone or you wanted someone to follow after you, so I did both."

Hank was touched by the considerate way that Logan had handled the situation. Before replying, he turned back away from his friend, not trusting his face to hide the tenderness he was feeling. "You can be a very perceptive gentleman, when you want to be."

He heard Logan behind him, now walking with longer strides to catch up. "Yeah well," said Logan. "Just kinda know you. So… what is it…tonight?"

Logan wasn't the best at talking about feelings and God knew that Hank was no better, so even asking what had him down was a gallant gesture.

"Same shit, different day right?" Hank said, using one of Logan's favorite phrases.

It caught Logan by surprise, though, to hear the words from Hank's lips, especially when said with such a bitter tone. "Wanna go down to the Barracuda?" He thought that the fuzzy man could probably use a beer and some pool.

"Not tonight," Hank said. His voice sounded firm on the subject, not that Logan was about to voice any objection.

They continued walking side by side along the road. Hank was street-side, Logan along the curb. The weeds were growing up tall over the tops of the curb. He could see them as he smashed them down with his feet. It was a walk that Logan had taken himself a time or two during times when it was just too hard to see the woman he loved in love with another. Though he was more apt to taking that other man's motorcycle out, holding onto it as he couldn't to Jeannie. He hadn't been out this way since she had died, since he'd had to kill her.

"Our thoughts are both gloomy tonight," said Hank.

"Don't tell me you're starting to get telepathic," laughed Logan.

Hank recalled Logan's earlier word's about how he "kinda knew" Hank. Well, that went both ways, since he could feel Logan drifting off in his own head again. He knew well enough whom those thoughts would be about and the accompanying emotions thereof. "Your steps were out of rhythm." That explained how he knew that Logan was distracted, but not how he knew that those thoughts were of Jean Grey.

Hank thought of Jean then as well, pictured her red hair flying all around her. She was wild and untamed as the Phoenix, like Ororo, a thing of nature. He imagined two sets of eyes colored an otherworldly hue, Ororo's a cataract white, Jean's a despair-filled black. _That_ Jean Hank could see the appeal of. When he had seen her in that state, his blood had flowed faster and his thoughts had become erratic. She had been a beautiful yet feral creature. If that was the Jean Grey that he had known, perhaps then he could have understood Logan's infatuation, but the woman he had known was simply not his type. Jean was quiet and nice, reserved and completely devoted to her husband. She was a dear person to Hank, but she lacked qualities that encouraged any licentious thoughts in him. He certainly hadn't had the strong reaction to her that Logan had, perhaps infatuation, perhaps true love, it wasn't for him to judge.

So, they both thought of the same woman in completely contrasting ways as they strolled through the night. It was good that Hank was thinking about something other than his own loneliness; Logan tended to have that effect on him. It was hard to focus to far inward with his friend nearby. Logan was always encouraging him to go with his gut rather than his head. In return, Hank often chided the Wolverine to stop behaving like such an animal. They formed an interesting symmetry.

"It's going to rain," Hank said. He looked up at the gathering clouds, failing not to think about a storm god.

"And you don't mind being out in it? What do you smell like when you get wet? Do you smell like wet dog?" Logan grinned at his friend, teeth glistening.

Hank chuckled. "No less than you, I'm sure."

The mansion was far behind them now. They were walking on the same road that they would take to get to the Barracuda but headed in the opposite direction. Honestly, Hank had never walked so far in this direction. They observed houses that were dark save for porch lights or homes with electronically lit curtains from the televisions inside. Everyone was tucked in safe and sound at home with their TV sets. How many times Hank had wished to have a normal life just like that: wife, kids, and the picket fence? He was back to feeling melancholy again, though not as bad as he had before Logan had showed up. He had a friend and even though friendship wasn't what his body and heart were craving, it was better than nothing.

"So, why are we out walking?" Logan was pretty sure he knew why, but it threw out a nice open-ended question should Hank want to get anything off his chest.

As it was, Hank was uncertain just how much he wanted to air about his conflict with loneliness and ennui. While they were close enough that he didn't fear Logan's judgment, he didn't really want it known, even if to just one other soul. There was also something that seemed infinitely insulting to complain to a friend about feeling lonely.

"I need a vacation," Hank sighed.

Logan groaned. "I guess this is the day for travel."

"I don't follow," said Hank. Logan offered no further explanation as he was too distracted thinking about Rogue's upcoming trip.

"Oh, uh, sorry. It's just the Rogue…" It was interesting how on occasions when Logan was feeling tender towards the girl, he called her Rogue, but when he felt that she was being troublesome or disobedient as a father would, then she became _the_ Rogue. Hank was fairly sure that it was a subconscious thing. Logan continued, "She's going back home for a visit. I don't know that it's my place to tell you, but she'll probably have told a good number of people by the time we get back and I know that you'd hate to be left out."

"Oh yes," replied Hank with mock seriousness. "You know how vital I consider gossip to be."

"Well, you are the one that produced the apron," Logan commented. Then before Hank could produce a retort in self-defense, saying something about how he still had the apron from when he'd been dating Ororo, he continued, "I don't know how many other housewifely traits you have."

Hank was thinking of a rejoinder when Logan sighed loudly. "I don't think she should go Fuzzy."

"Yes, I can understand why you wouldn't, but it is obviously something that the lady feels she must do."

"I know that and I'm not trying to stop her. It just feels all wrong. If they really hate mutants so much that their own daughter would run away from them and hell, this is the first time she's looked back. Makes me worry that maybe they're not the type of people that she should be opening up to."

Hank considered what Logan had said. He always loved the open display of affection that Logan revealed for Rogue. No one else, that was still alive, had caught his attention in such a way. It would have angered Logan to no end to be thought of as paternal, but that is exactly how he was towards the girl.

He didn't share Logan's belief that there was any danger to Rogue in returning home. Mutant prejudice was no matter to be taken lightly, but the only danger to her in this matter was the risk to her heart and obviously there must already been an issue there or she wouldn't be considering going. She needed a love that only her parents could provide for her. Like so many of the students at the Xavier institute, she would have to lay that on the line by revealing who she was first. It was a hard thing for mutant children to go through, something that Hank himself had been forced to deal with. His mutation was visible upon birth, but it advanced during his adolescence. His simian qualities disturbed his parents. His father's guilt over producing mutated sperm (he'd worked in a nuclear facility) had eaten at him as far back as Hank could remember. Eventually they came to terms with their son, even after the scientific experiment that had caused him further mutation, but it had been a long road. Hank did not envy Rogue the potential journey she had ahead of her.

"Do you plan to go with her?" asked Hank, knowing full well that Logan was.

"She doesn't want me to." The statement came out with a bit of a whine. He was still hoping that she would change her mind. It had happened before. She was stubborn, but more than that, she was smart and if she truly felt that it would be for the best, then she would allow him to escort her.

Hank felt his eyebrows knit together in the front. "Ah, this must be some sort of act of maturity." Having witnessed many progressions past adolescence at the school, he could easily identify the signs. She had turned eighteen and now she wanted to become an adult.

Logan stopped walking and faced his friend. "She's already mature. She doesn't have to look elsewhere for family."

The words were so sweet that Hank could not help but to pick a bit. "Logan, you can be so sentimental! Have you considered writing poetry?"

Logan felt his cheeks redden, embarrassed at being caught acting sappy. When no returning insult occurred to him, Logan just rolled his eyes. "Shut it. Let's head back."

Hank was feeling better now and they had quite a walk back, so he went ahead and listened to Logan's suggestion. He watched the shape of the burly man turn towards the mansion and walk away. Logan looked intimidating in the dark, not to the Beast who was taller and wider, but the average person would definitely find Logan's form imposing.

They walked in silence, both watching the landscape under the darkened sky. Hank held a hand out, confirming his suspicion as a rain drop landed on his palm. It was raining. The scent had been in his nostrils since he'd left the mansion and he was surprised it had held out this long.

Logan swore as he noticed the spattering of reticent droplets. Swearing was as close to complaining as he tended to get. "Wonder if it's rainy in Mississippi."

"So you are planning on escorting Rogue or following her silently?"

Logan shrugged annoyed that he was so transparent to someone. "I've been getting all cooped up here." While it was an excuse, the thought of a trip anywhere that wasn't the mansion sounded good.

"I understand the sentiment."

"You should come too," suggested Logan. "That is, if the Rogue will even let me."

As the lights of the school became visible, Hank considered the offer. He didn't often travel and it was even rarer to do it for pleasure. It would be nice to get away for a while. He felt terribly guilty then for even entertaining the idea of intruding on Rogue's family visit.

The rain picked up to more than a drizzle leaving the pair quite wet by the time they stamped their muddy shoes on the school's welcome mat. Hank noticed Logan grinning widely at him. "What do you find so amusing?" he asked, almost dreading an answer.

"You do smell like a wet dog."

* * *

Author's Note (2): I'm really looking forward to the next chapter which will have the group in Mississippi. This one was just kind of a lead into that. I'm finding Hank way easier to write than Logan. *shrugs*


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote the last scene of this chapter before I started this sequel. It flowed out so easily and seemed to fit so well. Since then, I have been struggling to yank the first half of the chapter out. I recognize that it's a bit stilted and that's why. I flip the first half the bird, but little hearts rotate around the second half. :P

* * *

The train ride to Jackson took twenty-eight hours, which felt too long to Rogue, Bobby, and Hank. It felt like two and a half decades to Logan, who spent the bulk of the trip pacing and glaring at Hank for having the audacity to read the whole damned trip. He wasn't sure why he found that so irksome, but the sight of Hank absorbed in the collection of pages made him want to punch a hole right through the side of the train.

Logan had been surprised by the addition of Bobby to the entourage, but caught on quickly to the reasons when he saw the extended periods of eye contact between the two young adults. Even that annoyed him. This trip was supposed to be about Rogue reconciling with her folks, not taking some kind of unmarried honeymoon. Hell, Gambit was still making a pest of himself trying to win her back, even after his cheating ways and it wasn't that Logan thought she should give him a second chance, but was it possible for the heart to change so quickly from one person to another? Plus, he didn't like Bobby.

His claustrophobia had kicked in before the first movie was finished playing on the little screens in the corner. It was some kind of chick flick and even without the headphones to listen, he had managed to catch too much of the plot. He'd crossed back and forth from the diner car where Rogue and Bobby chatted to the seat where Hank was engrossed in some book about pollution. It made him want to scream.

"How can you read that?" asked Logan. When he got no response from his friend, he wandered back to the dining car. At least Rogue and Bobby would try to include him in conversation, not that he had anything in common with the two kids.

After ten minutes or so of following their dialogue, he would get up and seek attention from Hank. Thus the cycle continued until the others dropped off to sleep. Even Rogue, facing such an uncertain reaction from her estranged parents had no trouble snoozing as the big metal cage rumbled down the tracks. It took forever, mind-numbing, uncomfortable, exasperating eternity.

* * *

"Now that is a view!" exclaimed Hank as they gazed at the sparkling river before them.

Rogue had asked Logan to pull the rental car over and now she was beaming at the water that wasn't half as luminescent as the warmth of her smile. "I had forgotten just how nice it smells."

Logan raised an incredulous eyebrow, but didn't comment. He just loved seeing when that little girl that he had first met showed through the woman she had become.

"When my father took me to see it, I imagined that I could see Huck and Jim on their raft. I thought maybe if I wished hard enough, they would come up to the bank and let me on." Hank was mesmerized by the beauty of the water and did not realize at first how silly the memory must have sounded to the others. When he did, he felt his pulse in his cheeks and he coughed uncomfortably. That was quite a bit more personal than things he cared to share with Rogue or Bobby.

"So, you've always been a book nerd?" teased Logan.

"Indeed, though I do find it easier to read when bothersome little boys are not pestering me for attention." There had been a few times that Logan's insistent interruptions actually had managed to stir Hank's ire, but now that they were off the train, he was able to look at the humor in it. He hadn't know Logan to be so attention-hungry, but he must have been terribly bored with no one to chat with and nothing to read for so long.

Logan scoffed. "Excuse me for not being more interesting than pollution."

Rogue smiled at the interchange between the two. She hadn't realized that inviting Wolverine included a plus one, but she was comfortable around Beast, even if she didn't know him very well. She had taken his science classes like any of the other X-kids and he was a nice guy albeit a bit dull. It was beyond her what Logan got out of their relationship. They were always pickin' on each other, but maybe that was how he wanted things. After what had happened with Remy, she was pretty sure she was clueless about what made people choose the friends and lovers they did.

"Do not underestimate the potency of a well-told tale, fiction or no."

"Thanks for pulling over Logan, I think I'm ready to continue on," she gave a slight wave at him and walked back to the car. Bobby followed like a lap dog. Soon enough Logan and Hank also made their way back to the rental, but they made strange faces at each other along the way. Hank could always win the weird face battles, with his large fangs and wide-parting jaws.

Logan chuckled a bit. "Your face is gonna freeze like that." He opened the driver's side door and climbed inside. They weren't far from the hotel now. Rogue was quite adamant that she face whatever happened with her parents alone and Hank was griping about needing a shower. For his part, Logan was looking forward to cable television and not being in a vehicle.

* * *

"You cannot possibly be enjoying that."

Logan tilted his head as if considering and spoke slowly. "Big robots....smashing stuff... and a redhead in daisy dukes?" He gave Hank a wide-eyed look when asking, "You don't think I could like that?"

Hank just groaned, plunging back into the refreshing intelligence of Oscar Wilde. Action movies were a mystery to him. He had done his share of pummeling bad guys and it had no similarity whatsoever to the poppycock in those films. When the violence was necessary and for the greater good, as happened occasionally to X-men, it was a kind of fun that action film viewers could not possibly fathom. For Hank, it was like watching sports rather than playing them. Thanks to Dr. Bolivar Trask, Hank was quite over the whole giant robot thing.

"This movie kicks ass," added Bobby.

Logan glared over at the boy who was sitting at the little table that the hotel patrons were supposed to eat at. Okay, if his tastes were similar to Bobby's, maybe Hank had a point. "Dammit," he cursed. Hank's grin did not go unnoticed by Logan. "Oh you think it's funny Fuzzbucket?"

Hank glanced at Logan, his visible eye just above the rim of his glasses. "Feeling insecure Logan?"

"I'm feeling like a fucking prisoner. What the hell are we doing just laying in this hotel room?" He rose up from the bed and snatched up his flannel shirt off the wall lamp. He began to button over his tank top. "Get your shoes on fuzzy."

"Are we going somewhere?" asked Bobby hopefully.

The briefest of smiles crossed Hank's lips before he could control himself. There was no chance that Logan would be taking the lad along on some seedy bar hopping voyage. He rolled off the uncomfortably stiff bed. He considered explaining the situation to the boy, but he would let Logan be the bad guy; he didn't really want Bobby along either.

"Nope, _we_ aren't. The great blue drain clog and I are."

Yes, that was put about as tactfully as Hank had expected. Though the interesting nickname had surprised him. "I always tip the cleaning staff very well," justified Hank.

Bobby's youthful face became crinkled with disgruntled lines. "You can't just leave me here."

Hank pulled on his trench coat and hat, no point in frightening the local populace with his visage. He saw that Bobby was looking to him for confirmation of his declaration. What was he to say? Hank couldn't even remember if he was old enough to drink alcohol legally. "One of us should be here if Rogue needs picked up."

Logan heard the easy excuse and swore silently. Well, that meant that they would be on foot then. He was just as happy with crushing the little puppy dog of a boy under his boot, emotionally of course. But, it did seem to work.

Bobby nodded. "You're right. She may need me."

The melodramatic words prompted Logan to roll his eyes. Rogue was too pretty for any of the X-boys good; this was the effect that she tended to have on them. He opened the hotel room sparing a look over his shoulder to make sure that Hank was following and then they were off into the waxing evening ready to explore and, if Hank knew his friend, to make asses of themselves.

* * *

Their endeavor of boozing it up in Mississippi took on a feel of bringing the one ring to Mordor. Hank suggested twice to Logan that they just hop in a cab, but he wouldn't entertain the option. The first two they hit had no pool table and Logan was adamant. The third one, which was already much further away than Hank had hoped for, also didn't have a pool table but was somehow acceptable due to a gritty sounding live band. The way that Logan glared at them, anyone else would have assumed that he didn't like the music, but Hank knew firsthand that being evaluated with those squinted eyes was a gesture of respect from the lone wolf. If he didn't like the music, he would ignore the band and if he hated them, they would be back outside wandering through alien streets. Hank was just glad to be sitting on a stool with a beer in his hand, regardless of the looks they were getting from the sparsely populated room.

The beer in Caldecott County was a strange local brew that came about as a result of a county ordinance that limited the percentage of alcohol that was allowed in beer. It tasted as though it had been swilled in a vat that used to contain old sneakers and Italian flavored croutons. Between that and the un-skilled performers on stage, Hank felt that he was having a very authentic time.

They occasionally talked during breaks in the music, but it wasn't long before a lady set her sights on his handsome friend. She introduced herself and then proceeded to verbally flatter him as Hank looked away respectfully. The plan for the two hotel rooms had been for he and Logan to share one and Bobby would take the other, sleeping on the floor if Rogue needed picked up, but now Hank worried that he might have to lodge with the iceman.

The foam on his beer had wilted away until only the amber filled his mug. It was a nice touch to have it in a mug; the Barracuda had less beer on tap than they did in cold impersonal bottles. He looked into the swirling liquid as if he was divining the future. What kind of futures could a urine-colored low-alcohol content drink predict? Hank set the mug down with a deflated sigh.

"So, you ready to try the next place?" asked Logan, furry chin brushing his ear.

He was surprised, looking to where the lovely blonde had been standing and back to Logan. "What about...?"

With a shrug, Logan explained, "not my type." He slid off his stool and snatched up his leather jacket. With a quick peek into Hank's mug, he added, "Your beer's flat anyway."

The strange rejected sensation Hank had been feeling left as easily as they did from the bar.

They could smell the Mississippi on the air and without conversing about it, they both headed towards the river. Their strides were close to even, being built similarly in stature, and the pace was slow, easy-going.

"That beer..." said Hank which prompted a great deal of laughter from Logan.

He shook his head. "Man, local beers aren't normally that bad. I think they used part of a football. Must be local team pride."

Hank chuckled. "It was yet another occasion upon which I possessed your miraculous healing properties."

"Face it. The envy doesn't stop there."

Hank paused as if considering. "Yes, but it seems a bit extreme to subject myself to a lobotomy just to emulate you."

"Oh, a stupidity joke. You're becoming predictable."

"I have to keep things simple for you." Hank adjusted his hat, pushing it up a bit so that he could see further down the road. He couldn't yet see the river, but the smell was getting stronger. There was no sun out, but he guessed it to be somewhere in the vicinity of 8 or 9 o'clock, but he didn't have an internal clock like his ex-girlfriend. He didn't like that thought, so he brought up something else. "You really enjoy traveling don't you?" When Logan looked at him as if he was being very dense, Hank corrected his statement. "At least, you enjoy being in new locations."

"I fucking love it."

All the crankiness that Logan had been exhibiting on the train was completely gone once they arrived. It had been replaced by a subtle excitement, the longing for adventuring. Walking around Caldecott was nice in a way, the exploration of new territory.

"It's kind of all that I know," said Logan, softly. The emotional intonation of the words caught Hank by surprise. He stayed quiet, hoping to encourage elaboration as they walked. Within a block or two, Logan continued speaking. "I'm not bitchin' or anything. My life's been pretty good since I joined up with Chuck's kids. I'm just sayin' that since I don't really know much about who I was before, no family or nothing, I kind of looked at things like new towns as big maybes."

"Maybe what?" asked Hank, but he thought he understood already what Logan was saying.

"Ah, you know, maybe this would be it." The river finally came into view. Logan had been smelling it since they left the bar. It was really gorgeous under the moonlight; for a second, he thought of Jeannie's eyes but he stopped soon after the hard thump of his heart. She was never an okay place for his wandering mind to go. "Anyway," he persisted, "I used to think that someday I'd find home. Whatever that means."

Hank nodded. "Some homes a person is born into, others are made, but it's part of the human condition to want one."

They walked off into the grass. The scent of magnolias and algae were strong and pleasant to Hank who spent too much time locked up in his lab.

"We aren't really human though," corrected Logan. With a grin, he added, "Me more than you though."

Hank didn't bother to react to the jab. Instead, he took a seat on the grass close to the rocks and dirt that led down to the river. Logan remained standing, but he stayed close, swaying a bit as he watched the water. "Do you still think those things? Even after you came to live in the mansion?" he wanted to add something about having found a family, but that was something best left to Logan to feel. He was well aware that Logan felt paternal towards Rogue and he had many friends that even the man with the hard exterior had to accede to having.

Logan thought about it. "I guess so, but with less, um, hope." He laughed. "That sounded wrong. I don't try as hard to find that. I guess I've probably got a home now, but it's still missing... something."

Never before had Hank heard him speak so honestly about his feelings. It was a bit intimidating to Hank, as if he did not know quite what to do with the information. He asked more questions, hoping to figure out his role before called on to enact it. "What do you think that something is?" Hank felt that he was a poor Freud. He allowed his upper half to fall back onto the soft grass. His fingers caressed the green spears as though he was petting a cat.

Logan came down to the grass then as well, laying prone onto the ground. It felt way softer than those torture devices the hotel called beds. He flipped onto his back and stared at the starless sky. Damn clouds must have been covering them and the moon was just a tiny sliver. It seemed far away. He believed that was how moons should look when traveling, like if you kept trying to follow it, it would only get farther away. "Fuck, I don't know hairball. Maybe it's this damn love thing people talk about. Humans want that too right?"

Hank was surprised by the sudden intense need he had to swallow, the saliva in his mouth seemingly absent. Had Logan hit a sensitive spot? "Yes, even mutants want love." He tried to push out the images of Ororo that bombarded his sensitive, sore grey matter. She always appeared when he felt the most vulnerable, but wasn't that being in love was like?

They were quiet for a while, lost in their individual heartaches. Logan wasn't sure why he had spoken so frankly to Hank other than the fact that he trusted the guy not to go gossiping his woes with the rest of the mansion. It seemed kind of pathetic to be whining about not being loved, especially to his closest male friend. He needed some justification for all that he had said tonight. "You want love right?"

"Indeed I do."

There was a tension that Hank could feel in the air. It was like a DVD paused right before the best scene. It was in the way that Logan was speaking to him with shield lowered, in the sight of the Mississippi river sparkling as if flowing with diamonds under the waning moon, and in the fragrance of the magnolias growing all around them. The night was expectant and he felt surprisingly weak to its will.

"Logan..." he began, stopping only because he did not know what to say.

"Hm?" came the distracted reply from the man laying on the grass next to him. When nothing further followed from Hank, Logan reiterated. "Yeah?"

Hank swallowed, vastly out of his depth with the strange emotions he was having. Surely it was the romantic setting and their growing closeness combining to form some faux sense of attraction. He would have been able to blame it on the Mississippi river if it hadn't been for that damned night at the mansion. His subsequent thoughts, lingering erotic fantasies, over the weeks that followed could hardly be blamed on the river either.

Gods above, he thought; I'm attracted to Logan. The realization was hitting him fully as Logan was propping himself up on an elbow, body maneuvering to face his friend. "You okay Fuzzy?"

He wasn't okay, in fact. Part of him felt like crying over his desperately unwanted epiphany. He had no interest in dating a man; was he not an outcast enough as it was? Oh, and to have developed some sort of crush on a friend whose opinion he truly valued. Why, it was just too unfair. He felt that he must truly be a glutton for punishment, imagining the next few months of coping with his feelings as comparable to the life of a Dostoevsky character. For he was old enough to realize that crushes were thus named for good reason.

"Talk to me buddy; you're worryin' me," growled Logan. When Hank looked his way, he said, more quietly, "Did I freak you out?"

"No..." Hank replied. His voice sounded small. He coughed. "No, sorry, I was just thinking."

Logan stared at him doubtfully. "Must've been some fucking deep thoughts."

Hank nodded. "Indeed they were."

Logan wouldn't force Hank to open up, but it irked him that he'd opened up plenty to Hank in the last half hour and the blue hairball wouldn't even do the same. He folded his arm down, using it as a makeshift pillow to rest his head on while still on his side. He watched Hank's chest rise and fall, a bit too fast from the look of it. Something had upset Hank, but he had no idea what it was if it wasn't his recent words.

"I wasn't coming on to you, if you're worried."

Hank looked at him and smiled. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Logan objected. "Look, I don't know when you're referring to Bub, but you are obviously..."

Hank interrupted. "I believe it was 'furry toes curled with a cigarette hanging from my mouth?' Sound familiar?"

As a matter of fact, Logan did remember saying something like that during their pool match. With that memory followed the shocked look on both Ororo's and Kurt's faces. "That was truly a Kodak moment. Thought Stormy was gonna lose her jaw."

The two chuckled, both genuinely pleased at the memory. "So, you said it just to provoke my former lover into a state of shock?" said Hank intending it to be a statement but hearing a question mark sneak its way in.

"Maybe," said Logan mischievously. "Or maybe not."

Hank flicked Logan a look that read "You're an idiot." He said, "And here you are saying that you've never come on to me."

They held eye contact for several moments before Logan broke into laughter. He held his non-pillow hand up in a gesture of surrender. "All right, all right! Point made! I do hit on you on special occasions."

The confession just begged the question that passed unbidden from Hank's lips, "Why?" After he asked the dangerous question, he immediately added more to it, acutely afraid of an answer from Logan. "I mean, it is not as if you are attracted to me. I am male for one thing and furry, blue, and simian for another."

Logan was quiet in response. He appeared to be thinking very carefully, either of his word phrasing or the question itself; Hank did not know which. He could hear the sounds of the nightlife, buzzing insects and night birds, over the beats of his heart, but just barely.

Finally, satisfied with whatever he had worked out in his brain, Logan answered. The entire time Logan talked, Hank found himself unable to look away from the familiar face speaking such touchingly honest words.

"You know, I've kinda wondered that myself. I mean, let's face it, I'd have to be some kind of pervert if I was into your brand of, pardon the pun, bestiality. But, as I've gotten to know ya..." he paused then, concentrating on saying the truth but in a non-hurtful way. "Well, suddenly it stopped mattering so much, the fur, the fangs, all of it.

"Like there was how you looked when I first came to X's place and there's how you look now. I think... well, I kind of see all of you now. See you, as you, you know?"

Hank was looking at him then as if his adamantine claws had just popped out his face or something. It was crazy to have actually brought this up with the uptight guy. For all knew, his frankness had just cost him a dear friend, but he wasn't gonna lie about stuff like that to Hank. Their camaraderie depended so much on their being equals. Also, he kept enough secrets from people. He wanted to be himself around his friend. He wasn't such a coward that he had to keep something like that secret.

"Are you... are you attracted to me?" Hank asked hesitantly, his eyes still wide from surprise.

Logan was confused how Hank could even ask that after the spectacular and incredibly spontaneous makeout session they'd had outside Hank's room. Sure, they hadn't pursued any relationship strangeness, but he felt that neither could deny the attraction there. The actions spoke louder than anything they could have said regarding the matter. "Yeah," he said.

"Oh my stars and garters," breathed Hank, his eyes closing as he rested his head back against the ground.

"Not to make you feel stupid or anything, but didn't you figure that out that one night?" asked Logan, feeling a bit insulted. After all, Logan hadn't been alone in the passionate kissing.

Hank sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose under where his glasses dug in. "I thought you were just making a point about my lack of spontaneity."

Logan rolled onto his back, grunting as he did so. "Hell of a move to make a point," he said. He was actually feeling enormous relief that he had said something about it even if it hadn't been a secret. The two of them had obviously been avoiding the topic since it'd happened. "You know, you're not as smart as you got people believing."

In the turmoil of Hank's brain, the only retort that appeared was, "Oh, shut up," so he favored silence to the proffered insult. The fact was simple; he had avoided thinking about why, because he was too afraid of Logan's possible flippancy.

"Look, it's not that big of a deal. I'm not pining for you or anything or writing your name with hearts around it. I'm not gonna lie, I had fun that night. Hell, we always have a blast. It's just that sometimes I think about things like that, you know, again."

Yes, they had kissed, for a solid five minutes at least, but Hank was still surprised to hear the words from Logan's lips. He had been unprepared for that passionate action then and he was similarly off-kilter about this honesty. Logan wanted to do that again? With ugly, ape-like him?

"How far off in your head are you fluff-head?" asked Logan gruffly. He was scowling into the evening sky, scornful of his friend's careful ways. He was bitching in his head about the over analytical bastard when he caught movement in his peripheral vision.

Hank had rolled closer to him and was looking at him curiously. Even with the intense conversation, he couldn't shake the feeling that Hank was looking at a piece of food on his face or something. "What?" he asked.

Hank laughed. "All that you've just said to me and you're asking _me_ what?"

Logan glared. "I didn't say nothing."

"Anything," corrected Hank. "And you did."

Logan was accustomed to his English being corrected by the scholarly animal. "So, what are you thinking then?"

Hank scooted a little closer, his large form inches from Logan's side. "I am trying," he said, removing his glasses. The face look strange to Logan who never saw Hank without them, at least outside of the battle room. "I think I am trying to forget reason and go with my instincts. That can only be at your negative influence."

Logan laughed, realizing what Hank was trying to work up the nerve to do. For that reason, he reached out a hand to the side of Hank's furry face. He tugged hard on the hair to force that big blue head closer. He didn't do it gently and Hank's expression was of surprised discomfort before he was close enough that Logan could no longer see. Instead he could feel the expression with his lips against Hank's.

"Heavens above," whispered Hank, his lips moving despite their place next to Logan's. "Are we really going to do this a second time?"

The two were laying next to the Mississippi river, Logan supine and Hank prone. Their lower halves were not touching, but Hank's body, from belly button up, was pressing against one side of Logan's chest. Their faces were close enough that to anyone it would have looked like they were kissing and not whispering to each other. Hank was afraid, his heart beating loudly and Logan's matched the rhythm, but from excitement and arousal and not fear.

Logan could hear Hank's anxiety in that voice, but he hoped that he also caught some anticipation. The light fur on Hank's face tickled as his mouth moved to answer Hank's question. "Only if you want us to." He was whispering as if to a lover, which he still wasn't capable of thinking of Hank as, even in this compromising position.

"How is that you always have stubble?" Hank asked in a lighter, more playful tone.

Logan smiled and Hank felt the grin with his lips. "I can't help it. Damn hair grows as soon as I take a razor to it. Why is it that you talk so fucking much?"

"When I ought to be...?" asked Hank, he drew his face back a bit and lifted a blue eyebrow.

Logan was not impressed by Hank's display of coyness. He opened his mouth to blurt out some sort of retort but was shut up by a mouth.

The kissing was better the second time. There was no hesitation from Hank this time, no warming up. There were the two sets of lips, alternating between closed and open, and tongues and teeth and searing hot breath. Logan felt like his whole body was involved in the kiss, though it was just his mouth. The fur lacked its previous repulsion. It was just part of the kiss, part of Hank, and it became okay.

Logan kept biting Hank's lower lip and while it was turning him on, he almost wanted more tenderness. No, he did want more tenderness, but why should he? Perhaps it was the scenery mixing him up inside. Logan tasted like beer and un-smoked cigar. His undersexed body was primed like a race car engine. He didn't even notice that his engine had, in fact, started purring until Logan pointed it out.

"You're purring," said Logan, breaking off the powerful kiss.

Hank felt embarrassed at this side of himself being revealed. The purring stopped at the change of emotions. Logan grinned at him, like he'd just earned new data for insulting, which he had. Hank frowned. "You're just a big ole' kitty, aren't you fuzzball?"

Hank drew back from the inviting chest, but was quickly drawn back in by strong arms. With surprise he looked at Logan, feeling a bit silly for reacting. " Can I get you to purr again?"

With a half-smile, Hank replied, "I wouldn't doubt it."

This ceased their conversation for several minutes. Somehow Hank's body drifted closer to Logan's until he nearly covered him. The night noises became a soundtrack to their kissing as their passion simmered pleasantly. The kissing became the vocals to a song called Hank and Logan, or was it Logan and Hank? It didn't matter who could claim top billing, because they were the only two around to witness the moment for miles.

That was as far as their tryst went there by the banks of the river, kissing until both sets of lips were tired and sore, until the sun began to make itself known on the horizon. It was yet another night that they kissed into the wee hours, but this time felt so much less confusing and so much more right to Hank. Not that he had any better idea of what the two of them were doing with each other, but it had not come so out of the blue as the first time. This was also trumped by the emotions that Hank was feeling. He was happy and it had been a precious long time since he had felt this good. So, he pushed his worrying brain to the background and focused on how incredible it felt to be desired by his best friend.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm stayin' here," repeated Rogue, whom Wolverine would never be able to think of as Marie, regardless of what she was saying.

"No you're not." It hadn't been an objection, but a complete disbelief of her words.

Rogue crossed her arms, obviously mistaking the way that he had meant his words. "What happened to you being my friend and not my father?"

The four of them were standing around the rental car across the street from Rogue's parents' home. Wolverine had noticed her parents peeking out from between their blinds; she must have requested that they wait inside for her. "In case you've forgotten, they are not comfortable with you being a mutant."

She shook her head. "I wasn't comfortable and that turned out to be more important." She uncrossed her arms and took a step towards him; her large doe eyes attempting to find some understanding in his own heavily browed ones. "They're my folks Logan and I love them."

Bobby and Hank were averting their eyes. It was a private moment. No one was as close to Rogue, except maybe Gambit, but he was not being included in the decision that she was making.

"Kinda thought maybe you'd come to think of us as family," he whispered down to her. The lowered voice didn't stop the others from hearing.

The sadness that Hank heard in his friend's voice broke his heart. He had his own feelings on the matter, but he had a completely different outlook than Logan who didn't even remember his parents. Hank was quite aware of how it felt to parents that were unsupportive of his mutation and he had also forgiven them, had to, because of how much he needed his parents' love.

Logan touched Rogue's hair, about the only thing that wouldn't zap him. "Whatever kiddo, you've gotta find your own way."

Rogue smiled. She wasn't oblivious to the pain she was causing him, but he was right: she did need to find her own way. Right now, that meant staying with her parents and trying to fix that hole in her life that only they could fill. She was a grown adult and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her from doing what she wanted. "Logan, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have the balls to be doin' this."

He released her multicolored tresses. He was losing her and it was killing him. "You gonna stay long?"

She shook her head. "Don't know. You gonna miss me while I'm gone?"

He rolled his eyes, his body swaying from side to side. "You're a hand full; do they know that?"

She reached out to him then and they embraced. He towered over her petite figure. Hank bit his lip. Again he could feel exactly what Logan must be going through and it hurt him.

"You need anything... and I mean anything, you give me a call."

Rogue smiled. "I know." As Logan backed away, she beckoned to Hank and Bobby and hugged them as well, though not with nearly the same heart-breaking emotion. "All right, you three had better head out. I got a years to catch up on."

With that, Rogue shooed her friend, surrogate father, and potential suitor away. She watched them all pile into the car with no dispute over who went behind the wheel; Hank and Bobby would have had to have been suicidal to argue with Logan in his current mood. Hank watched her figure disappear behind them, a lone girl on a lone street in the south. She was lovely and the tears that sparkled on her face were too, in their own way. She did care for them, did consider them her family as Logan had said. He hoped that Logan saw the sad face that was attempting to look strong from the rearview mirror.

* * *

Two months had passed since Hank's trip to Mississippi and Ororo Munroe was suspicious. Being a former lover of the blue intellectual, she was more attuned to his moods and more observant of his actions than most of the others in the mansion, the one exception, of course, being the man that was contributing to her suspicion. There was something going on between Logan and Hank and whatever that something happened to be was becoming more overt with each passing day.

At first Logan had been understandably grouchy at being abandoned by his unofficially adopted daughter. Even then, she had noticed that the only person that seemed safe from his ire was Hank. Then she had observed increased back slaps and tussling, which were starting to fall out of the realm of acceptable heterosexual behavior. She'd seen the two getting back from late nights, no doubt spent at the Barracuda, the bar that Hank had never offered to take her to. Now there was this, seeing Logan, the lone-wolf badass, coming from Hank's bedroom with a great yawn at ten in the morning on a Saturday.

Ororo was jealous, which was unfitting of a proper lady and even less so of a woman in a monogamous relationship with a man who was not the object of her jealousy. She scowled at Logan, whose jaws were just now shutting from his drowsy yawn. "Good morning Logan."

He nodded to her. "Morning Stormy."

She felt justified by the way his eyelids did not quite open all the way in asking him, "Not enough sleep?"

"You know I ain't a mornin' person," he grumbled without any overt malice. Then he passed her by in the hallway and made his way downstairs.

She huffed and looked around the hall, as if looking for someone to back up her shock and disapproval. How dare he be so casual about the situation? She turned on her heel and made her way back to the room she shared with Kurt.

The light coming in from the window may not have been the brightest, but it might as well have been for how buoyant Hank's heart felt this morning. When he had opened his eyes this morning, it had been with the vision of Logan curled up beside him. His body was warm at all the places that they were connected, which were many since they were not small-framed men. Funny how his queen-sized mattress had seemed so horribly large when it had just been him in it.

Hank purred a bit, totally content, the smell of Logan still in the air. Last night they had come in with quite a bit of clamor. Hank had drank too much while trying to match Logan's beer intake, a very stupid scheme that he would avoid in the future, and Logan had been very gentlemanly in making sure he made it into bed safely.

_"Oh, don't be silly! I am perfectly.." He punctuated the word by kicking his pillow that had fallen to the floor. It sailed gratifyingly towards the window. "Perfectly capable of seeing myself to bed."_

_"Yeah, I'm just worried about who you're gonna be ending up with once there." _

_Logan retrieved the kicked pillow and tossed it to the bed one second before Hank did the same thing to himself. The large blue man lay on the spinning bed and smiled. He pushed at his glasses; they seemed to dig in twice as much when he was drunk. "Why, I'd end up with you of course. There isn't anyone else here!"_

_Logan walked with amusement to the side of the bed over which Hank's legs were still hanging. He grabbed the heavy furry limbs and with a swing, got them facing the bed's 6 o'clock. He then climbed atop his friend and leaned his strong nose until it touched Hank's. "Don't tell me I'm your last choice." _

_Hank smiled, more from his happiness to have Logan so close than any of the words floating about nonsensically. He licked Logan's top lip gratefully. This encouraged Logan to kiss him, which was always a welcome thing, even if it happened less frequently than he liked. His friend's mouth no longer felt strange or overly masculine. This was what kissing felt like to him now, since this was the only person he'd been kissing. Then a random belch ruined a perfectly wonderful moment. He turned his head in time to let out the gas, luckily avoiding burping right into Logan's mouth. "Sorry," he whispered with embarrassment._

_"You fucking should be. I could smell that." Logan coughed and waved a hand in front of his nose. "It smelled better when it was in the bottle."_

_Hank laughed, finding the concept of his being a beer vessel insanely funny, no doubt due to the frothy alcohol itself. _

_Logan sat up, so that he was straddling Hank's waist. "Okay fuzzy, I think it's time that you get to sleep."_

_"Aw, don't go," whined Hank, shutting his eyes. "I won't try and talk about neuroscience if you do."_

_He didn't properly pass out, but he did become so tired that he didn't move even when he felt Logan shift off him. When it turned out that instead of leaving, Logan was only taking off his pants and shirt before joining him in the bed, Hank could not stop from smiling. If he'd been more awake, he would have had to restrain himself from doing cartwheels. As it was, he just fell asleep, with the corners of his mouth upturned into a moronic looking smile. _

Things weren't too different this morning really, because Hank was still smiling, slight headache or no. It felt like the perfect day because he had woken up to an occupied bed. Now Logan had set off without a word back to his own room, not even sparing a small smooch before leaving. Hank was okay with that too. The way that they handled each other was without the kid gloves that two people in similar situations (his brain kept avoiding the word 'couple") might. Just because they occasionally kissed, sometimes necks and earlobes, it didn't mean that their relationship had to change. Hank was totally okay with Logan's silent exit. He didn't need it explained to him; it was time for Logan to start his day.

He reached out a hand to the now empty space on the bed.

If only he didn't have the full bladder of a night's worth of drinking, he would have just continued grasping at the warm spot where Logan had slept. Instead, he made his way to the bathroom that was unofficially his. He didn't even have to get dressed, since he hadn't bothered to disrobe before losing consciousness the previous night.

In the hall he could hear the bustling of noisy children from downstairs. He picked out a few familiar voices. Children were so irreverently loud. It was probably the only part of life at the mansion with which he felt himself unable to acclimate. He loved quiet, best for reading or researching. His lab was practically a tomb it was so silent and that was just how he liked it. When he came upstairs to where the children played and learned, it felt like walking from the center of the tornado into the debris.

"Good morning," greeted a voice before he managed to slip back into his room.

He smiled at Piotr. "Good morning. Are you heading down for breakfast?"

Piotr nodded. There wasn't a meal that the Colossus skipped. It was strange for him to be running late, for anything, not just food, but Hank didn't even notice that it was late morning, having been up so late at the Barracuda with Logan. "You?"

Hank shook his head. "I think a little more sleep is part of my immediate itinerary." He opened the door to his room. "Enjoy your breakfast."

Piotr waved a hand to him and then walked to the stairway, ready to descend upon food. Hank watched the large man as he left and wondered if anyone had been walking around up here when Logan was leaving. He couldn't imagine that Wolverine would be sneaking around stealthily to avoid getting caught doing something so obviously incriminating. No, the Logan he knew would just walk out, not caring who saw him. If anyone asked, he might just tell them that he had spent the night fucking Beast until he couldn't walk straight. Hank could imagine that only too well. He wasn't nearly as comfortable with people knowing about their bouts of intimacy, because though it felt right when they were alone, it seemed that it would feel quite deviant if he told others. Also, they hadn't done any fucking and he disliked the idea of being viewed that way. He hadn't even been comfortable with others seeing him as a sexual active participant in his relationship with Ororo. Then he had assumed that he was just ill at ease with everyone knowing how Ororo could do better, but he didn't feel inferior to Logan. So now he had enough input to deduce that it was neither his own self-esteem issues nor any shame over his choice in partner.

His blankets were just as Logan-scented as when he had left and he happily climbed back under them. The sheets were covered in blue fur on the side of the bed that he normally slept on. His grooming habits, two showers a day with extensive brushing, kept his shedding down, but fur still tended to get everywhere. He grabbed a sip of semi-stagnant water from a glass that had been sitting on his nightstand for far too long. He was dehydrated; as a doctor he knew better, but he would rectify that once he woke up. For now, he just wanted to drift off and think of how things could have gone last night if he had not fallen asleep.

Logan was feeling much relieved about the Rogue situation. He had expected them to kick her out again, shattering that spunky spirit of hers. It had been two months, however, and the three of them had made peace. She was looking for a job, a hard thing to come by in Caldecott, so that she wouldn't have to burden them. Though the thought of the Rogue with a paper hat on her head asking if someone wanted fries made his blood boil, his brain told him that work was good for the spirit. Before he'd come to the mansion, he'd done lots of jobs just to put food in his belly, but they had also made him stronger by giving him practice with things and by keeping him active. Well, she was smart enough that if she did get a burger flippin' job, it wouldn't be for long.

He was chewing on a piece of toast that one of the kids had left uneaten on a plate by the sink in the kitchen. It was smeared with boysenberry jelly. Normally he could not tolerate food, especially sweets, in the morning, but it had looked so appealing. It looked all abandoned on the plate, sentenced to execution by trash can. It was almost heroic for him to eat it.

Most of the morning crowd was cleared out of the large dining hall already. The sounds of the children, now packed full of calories, echoed in from the other rooms on the first floor of the mansion. He took a seat by the window, as he was usually accustomed, and sipped the coffee he had poured. Unfortunately the caffeine's jarring wake-up effect lasted only as long as he was drinking. So, he just drank it for the taste, one he had grown accustomed to at trucker diners.

The room was for the folks who had been up late last night once the ten o'clock hour rolled in. He had seen the time on the large grandfather clock by the stairs that led to the foyer. When he'd left ole Fuzzy's room, he hadn't bothered to check the time, wasn't even sure how Hank could read the blasted analog clock with its tiny identical mechanical arms and dots instead of numbers. The really amazing thing was his ability to see what time it was in the near dark. It was never entirely dark in Hank's room because one of the security lights of the school was on the vertical ledge outside and slightly to the right of his window. Logan was a pitch black sleeper and the light had kept him awake last night. Still, he hadn't left to the double blanketed window in his room. He had preferred to just stay up, entertained by his own thoughts and the incredible cacophony coming from Hank. The man was pretty drunk when he'd gone to bed, so he suspected that under normal circumstances, Hank didn't sleep so much like a freight train about to derail. He further suspected that he would find out soon enough.

"Good morning," said a thunderous voice at the table next to him.

Logan nodded over at Piotr. From the slight glaze of the hair behind Piotr's ear, Logan knew that he'd either just worked out or just bathed. He grunted as his way of conveying good morning. The toast was long since finished and his stomach was still growling. Maybe today would be one of the days that he cooked up his six-alarm eggs. If he did that, he'd probably have to run to the store for the ingredients. In a house full of kids, there weren't often a good deal of spices or peppers.

'What the hell,' he thought. It would be worth the trip. Maybe he could convince Hank to have some once he got up. The combination of the spicy with the hangover that he no doubt had would make for some humorous times for all involved but Hank. Logan grinned at the thought, the love of gastro-intestinal humor there despite his age.

He stood up quickly with determination, the grin still on his face. Piotr watched him curiously. "Store," he told the Russian strong man. Not that he needed to tell anyone his comings and goings, but Piotr was a pretty standup guy who kept to himself. He was more the listening type.

The wind from the motorcycle's speed woke him up. There was something about just hopping on his bike, the freedom of it he supposed, that just made him feel alive, even if all he was doing was fetching peppers for breakfast.

When he returned to the mansion, the kitchen and its adjoining dining hall were blissfully empty. He set the skillet atop the stove and began to heat it as he diced up the chilies. When cooking, his mind entered a trance of sorts, automatically setting to the task of concocting a meal. It was due to this complete ease that he thought he must have been a chef at some point. Since most of the stuff he knew how to cook was spicy, he figured that it must've been some kind of southern cooking. It wasn't like he could see himself working at some hoity-toity New York restaurant, so that kind of cemented the Southern chef thing.

"This wouldn't happen to be Wolverine's infamous six-alarm omelet would it?" asked a smooth, deep voice right next to his ear.

Logan hadn't heard Hank come in, but he didn't react in surprise either, because he had felt the presence just before he'd heard the words. He could still smell the alcohol on Hank's breath as it tickled his ear. God alone knew why the man had such a tempting manner, but Logan knew it worked.

His hand stayed firmly on the spatula he was using. "Yes indeed." He looked at Hank daringly. "You up for the challenge?"

Hank loved it when Logan cooked. The ease with which he maneuvered himself around the food was sexy, though he'd appreciated it before that deviant little S-word had ever crossed his mind. At the moment though, ingesting any of the offered pungent fare sounded like it would be the end to his intestinal lining. He laughed softly. "I am going to have to decline this time my friend."

Logan leaned in close to him. "Don't think it'll mix well with all that alcohol still sloshing around?"

The brown bristles on Logan's chin were nearly touching his and despite the bog-like state of his mind, he wanted to close the distance between them, reach out with his mouth and kiss Logan like he had last night, a confrontation of lips, teeth, and tongues. "I..." he started to say something defensive but stopped. His libido was talking to him, telling him that the scent of coffee on Logan's breath would taste heavenly and that the kitchen wasn't an indiscrete place for such dalliances.

Logan could see how he flustered his friend with just his closeness. Damn, Hank was so good for his ego. He wanted to reward that behavior with a kiss, but they hadn't yet been so forward in public, not even the Barracuda though he knew that many of the barflies there already suspected the two of inappropriate behavior. He threw a glance behind Hank's head to the doorway where he'd entered, just to check if the coast was clear. His heart lurched a bit when he saw there were indeed people there. Damn, there went that plan.

He pulled his face back from Hank's, but slowly so as not to appear guilty. Once he was facing the skillet again, he called out, "Hey there Chuck."

Hank spun as though caught in some terrible act of treachery. Professor Charles Xavier, co-founder of the School for the Gifted, and Ororo, his former beloved, were in the doorway to the kitchen looking at the two of them standing side by side at the stove.

He quickly backed away from Logan and greeted them. "Good day Ororo, Charles." He was totally flummoxed.

He was so preoccupied with their intrusion that he didn't notice that Logan had begun to laugh. 'Such a tight ass,' he thought to himself as he stirred the frying peppers and Hank walked over to Storm and Chuck. There was no doubt that Stormy would be able to figure out what was going on just from how over the top Hank was acting, trying to be cool. He turned a bit and called out to them. "Either of you brave enough?"

Professor Xavier rolled closer to the stove and Logan pulled the nearly ready eggs off the stove, tilting the pan a bit for easier viewing from his wheelchair. Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Six-alarm eggs?"

Logan smiled. "A-yup. Whaddya say?"

Ororo had not stopped staring at Hank. Something in her brain had snapped. It was true then. Just before they had come in, Hank and Logan had been about to kiss, there in the kitchen. Yes she had seen the flirting all along, but she had never actually thought that they... that her Hank could be...

A stick hit the window on the wall opposite the kitchen's entrance. The clack caught their attention and the three men observed the fierce winds that had started blowing outside. Ororo was too busy trying to calm her insides. She knew the tumultuous thoughts circling her brain had stirred up the wind outside. She was too old, too accomplished to be at the whim of her feelings like that. She reminded herself of these things until the wind died down and she had pushed her extreme displeasure to the back of her mind.

Once she had gathered her cool again, she noticed with dismay that the men were looking at her. She feigned a smile and raised a hand to rub her forehead. "Sorry, headache." It was true in that she did have a headache, but it hadn't caused the weather aberration and they all probably knew it. She was too proud to admit how upset this situation made her.

It was Logan's look that pushed her to take her leave. Charles and Hank were gentlemanly enough to overlook the fabrication. Logan who didn't know the meaning of the word gentleman, wore on his face a visual expression of "Yeah, fucking right." She could almost hear the words being said in the little smirk of his lips. So, she placed a hand on Charles' shoulder and said calmly, "I think I might just lay down for a bit."

"You do that Ororo. A bit of rest does wonders for the body."

She smiled at him and Hank, not bothering to do the same with Logan, and then left the room.

Logan didn't want to drag out the moment, already feeling that it had gone on too long. "So Chuck, you gonna give it a try? Fuzzy here is too much of a small girl to try it."

Professor Xavier smiled. He wasn't big on the spicy food. There had been many a time that he was talked into trying something with more zest than he could handle by Erik, commonly known to the mansion occupants as Magneto. But then, that man had a talent for getting him to do things he wouldn't normally. He raised a hand at the offer. "I'm afraid that my old stomach wouldn't handle it well. Perhaps someday though Logan. As you'll recall, I did sample some of your jambalaya over the summer."

Logan nodded. He had been impressed by the way Charles ate a few bites and then resisted reaching for his water glass, though the bead of sweat on the bald forehead had told Logan all the needed to know about the meal's spiciness. It had been a manly contest, much like his pool game with the Beast. "And you said that you hadn't tasted better," he reminded.

Charles nodded. "Indeed. Now, I came in for a cup of tea, so if you wouldn't mind..."

"I'll get the kettle on for you," offered Hank who suddenly snapped out of his shocked staring, as if he could still see the form of Ororo in the doorway. He passed by Logan's body, allowing quite a good deal more distance than he usually did, and fetched the tea kettle.

"That is very kind of you," said Charles. He rolled to the window behind the end of one of the two large dining tables. It was a bit nippy for the window to be open, but the curtains were open and he looked at the grounds while the kettle warmed the water.

Back at the stove, Hank set about pulling the Professor's Earl Grey from the cupboard. "That was quite... shocking," he whispered to Logan.

Logan looked at his large blue friend. The way he saw it, Hank had four sides. One was the side that he couldn't stand. The boring Hank liked to talk about medicine and science. He was overly nitpicky, well-read, and well, dull. Then there was the Hank at the Barracuda, which Logan felt was the truest to the man's true nature. At the bar, he was interchangeably moody and boisterous. He bragged a lot about his game and made the others laugh with his humor which could run so high brow that it soared over everyone's heads or low enough that only the really immature would laugh. There was the side of Hank that he was just beginning to explore, the sensual and affection side. That particular part not only intrigued Logan, but made him feel as he only ever had with a woman. When Hank felt like cuddling, it warmed him and when he bit Logan's lip or scratched down his shoulders, it made him go crazy.

The side of Hank that was bothering the shit out of him right now was this Hank, the submissive, groveling one that felt that he was just lucky to have dated that "goddess" as he had called Ororo. Logan certainly didn't see Stormy that way and he hated the way she affected his friend. In his opinion, it had been Storm that had been lucky to have Hank and not the other way around. For some reason, just seeing Hank practically a gibbering idiot that he might have upset Ororo made him want to claw something.

"Chuck never wants my omelets."

Hank shook his head. "Not that."

Of course it hadn't been that and in any other state of mind, Hank would have seen through Logan's words, but he was too busy thinking about Stormy.

"The way that Ororo just reacted. I think she thought that she saw..." He didn't finish, couldn't verbalize in a room that had Professor Xavier in it what it was that Ororo had thought she saw. She would have been right anyway. Hank could tell that Logan was going to kiss him, was growing accustomed to when those sweet moments would happen. What must be going through her head just then to have caused a wind storm? She was normally so in control of her powers.

Logan tried his best to ignore the confused stream of consciousness coming from Hank. He slathered his now cooked omelet with Tabasco sauce and grabbed a fork. With a look to see if Hank was noticing his disinterest (he wasn't), Logan took a seat at the table near where Charles was sitting.

Hank rolled the tea cup around and around in his head as he contemplated. The kettle's lusty squeal captured his attention and he put the little tea ball into the tea pot and then poured the boiling water. He grabbed the tea cup, which now had a few stray indigo hairs, and the pot and took it over to Professor Xavier.

Charles was already turned around so that he could chat with Logan. "Thank you very much Hank." He dipped the tea ball several times as he continued the conversation. "So with the holidays swiftly approaching, I felt that it would be a good time for me to take a little... break as well."

Logan's ensuing nod was strictly out of politeness. He was too busy watching as Hank took a seat next to Chuck and then proceeded to mentally check out. If it irked him anymore, he was worried his claws might come out.

* * *

Well, that's Chapter 3. The story will finally earn an M rating next chapter. 20k words just to get to the sex scene. *laughs* Well, I wanted the pair to be as in character as possible. Have I been doing okay? Personal opinion: Logan is fucking straight. I mean, that's why I picked him and even with as hard as I've worked, *I* still don't believe that he'd hook up with Beast. Whatever.


	4. Chapter 4

As the day wore on into evening, Logan found himself growing more grouchy. This seemed completely random to him. The little wheedling sensation that had started in his mind since Ororo's outburst was too far in his subconscious. He was not a man in tune with his mind's inner workings, preferring to ignore the subtleties and laud the assertive voices.

He was prowling around Hank's lab, tinkering with glass vials and swirling anything that rotated. Any signs of his cleaning escapade from months back had gone.

He cursed loudly as he tipped over a Bunsen Burner. His reflexes were just off enough that he was only able to snatch it up after it clattered to the floor. "Fucking lab shit. Do you really need all this?" He yelled.

Hank looked up from the stack of papers he was grading and pushed the glasses down his nose so that he could gaze at Logan from above their rims. "Logan, what has gotten into you?"

Logan growled. "I dunno. Probably those damn kids." He couldn't think of anything off-hand that they might have done, but it usually ended up being their fault.

Hank was just as aware that Logan hadn't spent time around the students today. So, he steepled his hands and asked, "Can I make a suggestion?"

"Yeah, I know. Don't break any of your shit." Logan walked towards where Hank was sitting. He saw the superiority in his posture. Sometimes Logan saw the smugness in his friend that he had initially despised.

Hank shook his head. "No. I was going to say... Danger Room."

Without any hesitation, Logan's hands slammed loudly down on the lab counter on either side of the paper stack. Hank jumped back a bit at the motion and noise. Then when he saw the broad grin on Logan's face, he felt his own lips curling into a smile. "Now _that_ is a good idea."

* * *

Logan ducked as the furry cannonball shot past him, unrolling and grabbing onto an overhanging virtual tree. When he looked up again, Hank was just dangling from the limb with a silly, enthusiastic grin. "Now I see that simian thing you were talking about."

"You expect me to believe you never noticed it until it I spoke of it? Come now Logan, even you aren't that slow. Well, mentally."

"Hey!" he protested. "If I was allowed to use my claws, it wouldn't matter how fast you swung on trees."

Hank flipped upside down, switching out his strong legs to grip the branch. From the new vantage point, Logan looked quite silly indeed, standing on his head. "And if you were allowed to use your claws, I wouldn't have accepted your offer to spar."

They had only been in the danger room for a good twenty minutes, just enough time for his body to feel rejuvenated by the adrenaline of play. They could consider it training, that was what the room was used for, but Hank thought of it as just a place where he could relax and let himself enjoy his mutation. Even though there were simulated enemies, cleverly hiding amongst the landscape, they presented little effort to dispatch for either Logan or himself. Mostly he had taken the opportunity to do several aerial laps around the simulated jungle environment. It frustrated Logan that he couldn't catch Hank and that only added to the fun. It was an intermediate level program, way below their skill levels, all the better since by the end they would be challenging each other, as always.

"Don't ya ever get dizzy doing all that stuff?" Hell, just watching the other man flipping all around disoriented Logan and he wasn't the one doing the acrobatics.

Rather than answer Logan's question, he spun cockily on the branch until he gained enough momentum to land atop it. From the higher vantage point he smirked down at the muscular man who had somehow managed to lose his tank top somewhere in the jungle. That was a perplexing habit of Logan's, the frequent loss of apparel. Ah well, it wasn't as though anyone could complain over the bared flesh, hardened sinew over adamantium; He was a good-looking man.

Logan was breathing hard, not overly so, but he had been running quite a bit to catch up with the monkey-like fighter. Kind of difficult when he'd been having to take out all the enemies they'd been coming across, since they were primarily ground fighters. "You could have been a gymnast, well, if your tits were smaller maybe."

Hank laughed. He looked around for an arboreal path that would get him above Logan's position. In less than a second, his mind had mapped out the quickest route and he was jumping, his body unnaturally lithe for such a large body.

Logan caught the movement, knew that their personal combat was starting a little early on this day, and took his own actions. He launched himself to the right, using the momentum of hitting a tree with his shoulder to spin him ninety degrees. Overhead he heard the rustling and crashing of Hank passing through the trees. Damn, why had he let Hank pick the program? He ran, searching for an open area. The best he could find was a large grassy area. The openness was good, but it still had those damn trees blotting out the sky, so many places for Hank to drop down from. Still, he stood a better chance there than pressed against trees.

He stood in the center of the circular glen and waited with his head up, waiting for Hank's approach. It took some willpower to keep his claws retracted. His brain kept reminding itself that this was for training and that he wasn't in actually danger. It was a hard fact to remember as he watched the greenery above him shuffle manically.

Then all went still. Logan hated surprises, especially when they were attacks. "I can hear you breathing fuzzy," he yelled. It was a bluff, because though he really should have been able to, he couldn't. It worked. He heard a chuckle from just behind him to the right. He spun around to face the patch of leaves that had revealed itself with laughter.

Logan crossed his arms and raised a challenging eyebrow to Hank. He could barely see the blue of his fur through the green, but it was there, moving slightly with each inhale and exhale. "Well, you gonna come down?"

"I may just take up residence here. It's got a hell of a view."

"I'm flattered," joked Logan. "But I'm not always going to be down here for ya to stare at."

With a flash of blue motion, Hank landed on the ground with a soft thud. His knees had bent as he landed to cushion the fall, but soon he stood up to his full height. There were some moments when Logan was genuinely impressed by his friend, most of these were in combat. It was a hell of a thing to see, Hank moving like a fucking blue tree cheetah.

"Well, you do have your shirt off..." said Hank. He then felt completely embarrassed about the flirtation, an action which was coming easier to him, but was still quite foreign. It was strange how he could have his tongue in Logan's ear with less self-consciousness than saying something provocative. It was just easier for him to say things with actions and he got the impression that Logan felt similarly.

Logan grinned less from the compliment and more from the way that Hank then looked away awkwardly. "And you like that?" he asked, stepping towards his friend.

"I'm just amazed that you find a way to end up half naked every time we..." It was becoming harder for him to talk with each step that Logan took towards him. There had been a time not that long ago when he had felt more comfortable around Logan than he did anyone else. When did he start reacting like a thirteen year old girl to the memory-less rogue? It agitated him. "...get into a situation of violence."

Logan was now very close to Hank, the scent was easy to pick up for his superhuman olfactory sense. Wolverine cologne would be a fragrant amalgamation of cigar, sweat, and musk. At the moment, there was also the scent of what Hank could only describe as sex. He looked away from the intense way that Logan was looking at him.

That was a mistake, Hank realized, as he felt pain burst from his leg as Logan kicked the side of his leg, knocking Hank off balance. In the time it took him to recover his senses, Logan was atop him and holding a fist up to his face that could easily have been brandishing foot-long knives.

"Looks like being half naked helped me out eh?" The humor in Logan's voice was unmistakable and though Hank felt foolish, he couldn't help but agree with the situation being quite amusing.

Hank opened his mouth, ready to unleash a scathing retort, but the fist was replaced by Logan's face and his comment was drowned out by a bestial kiss.

It could easily have been the power rush that he was feeling that nudged Logan to arousal; he wasn't analyzing his reasons. He just felt how nice his spontaneous erection against Hank's body and how warm the mouth that was moving against his was. His hands gripped the sides of Hank's chest and he bit into the round lips under his teeth. When Hank moaned at the aggressive kissing, something they'd been doing a hell of a lot of lately, Logan moved his pelvis against Hank's. That move definitely moved into a territory they hadn't yet explored. For some reason, Logan, as bad with others' emotions as he tended to be, knew that Hank would have had a problem with it and had avoided any below the belly button action in the fear that their trysts would be called off. Now though, he was seeing green lights in Hank's actions. He hoped he was reading things correctly.

Logan did not realize that his motivations involved any jealousy that may have been triggered by Ororo that morning.

Hank's mind blanked at the first electric jolt of Logan against him. Many times he'd been forced to make his brain do the same thing it had just done so naturally. There were just bodies, his and Logan's. The hands that were gripping his chest were tense with need and the motions that his body were suddenly making showed that desire back. In his head he was swearing in ways that could have made a sailor blush. He bit Logan's lip just as hard as the bite he'd received and the hands tightened, moving closer to his nipples. This was so different than the time on the banks of the Mississippi, not a hint of romance, just need.

He raised his hands up to Logan's smooth, strong back, and pulled the man closer to him. Chest to chest, crotch to crotch, and yet still not close enough. He scratched at that hairless back, running in lines parallel to the spine. Logan's reaction of arching harder into Hank only encouraged him to inflict that pain. When his hands reached the feel of the coarse denim, they didn't hesitate. His thumbs hooked under the jeans pushing downward as his fingers extended out, grasping at the ass, holding each cheek now halfway revealed to the open air.

"Hey! Hold on!" said Logan into Hank's mouth. When he sat up, Hank was devastated, sure that he had crossed a line. "You trying to make me a goddamn eunuch?"

Logan undid the top button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper, alleviating the pressure that the jeans were putting on his package. With that uncomfortable bunching out of the way, he leaned back down to Hank and pinched a blue, furry nipple.

Hank cried out a bit in surprise at the unexpected nipple assault. His relief that he hadn't offended Logan was replaced by humiliation that he was already performing with such ineptitude. He hadn't thought about Logan's genitalia when yanking at the jeans, because he had never engaged in sexual acts with another man. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Let's prevent that." Logan's voice sounded quite thoughtful as spoke, already reaching beneath himself for the button to Hank's khaki pants.

"I..." Hank protested. "Um, do you really think that this is... something we should be... doing?"

The button slid free and without its binding influence the top half of the zipper came down, doing half the work for Logan. He was only partially listening to Hank's objections. The man wanted this just as fucking much, probably more, than he did. Hank just needed to learn how to let shit go. "Shut up Furball." He smirked at Hank's offended expression. "And yes, I think it is something that we should be doing. So, maybe you might consider, I don't know, _doing_ something."

It took only a moment for the challenge to twist its way past the inactive parts of Hank's brain. He sat up with such speed, he nearly bucked Logan off, but in the end it worked out so that his mouth and chest were against Logan's and his penis, still bound by boxer briefs, was nestled beneath Logan's ass. His hands crawled all over Logan's back, going as high as the hair on the back of his neck and as low as the sagging jeans.

Logan knew that daring Hank into action would work. He gripped onto the furry but muscular shoulders and tipped his head back when Hank's mouth roamed over his neck. As far as he was concerned, their foreplay had lasted for three months and that was a fuck of a lot more than he had ever troubled himself with a woman. He was too impatient for it now. He pulled at his jeans, tried to sit up enough to get them off, but couldn't quite while still on Hank's lap. "Fucking jeans."

Hank smiled. "Even infants can undress themselves."

"Infants don't have big gorillas squeezing the air out of them," snapped Logan. The insult didn't seem to bother Hank who didn't loosen his hold. He just reached out to tweak a nipple as Logan had done to him earlier. He did it in an experimental way, not sure whether Logan's reaction would be negative or positive.

He didn't get the chance to find out because at that moment a thunder-like noise sounded and some of the bark from the tree behind him blasted off. He had ducked instinctively at the sound, but Logan had rolled off him. On his knees with eyes squinted in a calculating manner, Logan looked quite predatory, like his namesake. He also looked a tad silly since his jeans were still sagging halfway down his exposed backside. Silly, yet fetching.

Logan scanned the trees that lined the glen, finally catching a subtle motion. He propelled himself towards the gunman, moving faster than his pants could keep up, and ungraciously crashed to the grassy floor. He recovered quickly, pulling the jeans up as their enemy's second bullet hit his shoulder. The danger room was a misnomer in the cases of the lower level programs. Bullets were of the hard pellet variety, less threatening than a BB. Thus the shot barely ticked at his body and didn't slow him down any from running after the shooter.

Hank watched as Logan tore off into the jungle alone. He didn't need help and Hank knew it, so he just leaned back so that the top of his shoulder blades caught the tree behind him. He was nearly reclined, so he shimmied back a bit to get more comfortable. His pants rode lower and he decided to just shirk the unnecessary cloth. He still had his underwear on, so it wasn't like he was being indecent.

It was his favorite danger room simulation, this jungle. More than the opportunity to swing around from branch to branch, Hank loved the humid temperature and earthy fragrance. Yes, it did make his fur stick to his body when he began to sweat in such climates, but it also made him feel connected to the earth, part of something bigger than himself. Before joining the X-men, he didn't get chances to feel that way. He had always been on the outside, pursuing an education while desperately desiring companionship.

His parents had certainly not helped his self-esteem, with their guilt over having caused him to turn out the way he had, but blaming them would have been misguided. It had been up to Hank to form his identity in the face of adversity and if he did so without the assistance of another soul, that only made him stronger. All that loneliness had left when he joined Professor Xavier's team and finally his need to make a difference was being met. He was happier in the mansion than he had been anywhere else. It even provided such exotic escapes as this virtual realm.

His body still felt overheated from the exertion of twirling among the trees and the over-sexualized touches. With Logan, that sensation was becoming the norm. Every time they spent time alone, Hank felt twisted inside by want. It was the strangest relationship he had ever participated in. There was the ease of dialogue between them, a better friend he had never had; yet there were these times, the licking tongue against his, the feel of now familiar upper body muscles. It was like their friendship had two faces and both fit so well. Was that even possible? When they were around others, he was just happy to tease and laugh and when they weren't, he wanted to burrow into Logan's flesh until the ache went away.

Logan appeared out of the trees. He looked understandably annoyed and that for some reason the expression always made Hank happy. As he walked up to Hank, he said, "Next time, we kill all the fucking bad guys beforehand."

"Before?" asked Hank. He wanted to tease, because an annoyed Logan was so much fun.

"Yeah, before, you overgrown hairpiece." He dropped to the ground beside Hank and looked down at the bare legs. "Unless you always train without pants."

"Speaking of which, that was a tremendously graceful exit." He turned his head and grinned at Logan who was scowling at him.

"I wasn't the one who pulled them down!" growled Logan. He unbuttoned the offending jeans and pulled them off, throwing them into the grass.

They were now both leaning against the wide based tree in their underwear. It was so warm in the danger room that Hank was still sweating even without his pants.

Hank didn't respond, only kept staring at the glen around them. Minutes passed as Hank thought of how comfortable and pleasant he felt. Finally, Logan said, "So how do we get this love that doesn't speak its own name thing going?" When Hank looked at Logan with an incredulous eyebrow raised, Logan cried out, "What? I'm fucking pent up!"

"Ever the romantic," teased Hank.

"Oh sorry there Princess, didn't realize that you needed to be wined and dined."

Logan had reached his waiting limit. He wasn't going to allow some computer generated gunman to cock-block him. He shifted his position so that he was on his knees facing Hank's side. Strangely, his next action took more courage than pretty much any of the other shit he did. He reached out placed the palm of his hand on Hank's dick, still restrained by boxer briefs.

Hank's head whipped quickly to Logan's curious eyes. The noises of the jungle around them grew louder to his ears as he tried to control his breathing which seemed to be stuck. He forced an exhale; it came out with a whoosh, betraying just how nervous he suddenly was. Logan's hand was still and his gaze was patient. Understanding that there was a question in the air between them, Hank closed his eyes and slowly nodded his head.

Logan kissed him, the hand moved, and he burst into metaphoric flames of desire. They ended up on the grass together, side by side, Logan still caressing him in the most intimate of places. He was scared and aroused and completely out of his element. One of his big furry hands reached up to stroke Logan's face only to be moved lower by Logan's free hand. He shook as he allowed his hand to be placed right there on Logan's erection. "I..." he rattled into the warm mouth against his.

"Shut up Hank," Logan whispered commandingly. His name on Logan's lip was so unique, no pet name or insult used. It shouldn't have excited him like it did, but there was no denying how he hardened at the softly spoken order.

Through the fabric of Logan's boxers, he felt their anatomical similarities, felt the shape and rigidity, not so different from his own. It was still thrilling to be doing this with another man, but it was an epiphany to Hank to find that gripping a penis felt about the same regardless of the owner. Had he been expecting some alien genitalia? Did he think it was going to have arms and legs? He was so relieved to find that it was just a penis. He knew about those. Why, this whole endeavor wasn't so foreign really. What had he been so afraid of? He realized then that all the things he had said about being "perfectly okay" with homosexuality were a damned fabrication. He had stigmatized it, feared it as unnatural when this actually felt just as instinctive as sex with a woman.

Logan was ignorant to Hank's mental light bulbs. He knew only that Hank was finally touching his cock, which had been begging him for fucking weeks for the touch. He wriggled out of the boxers, exposing his cock to Hank's bare hand or any other part of Hank's body that he felt like giving. At this point, he just wanted to come and there was something really awesome about it being Hank to help him get there.

When Logan took off his underwear, Hank did the same and when they were both naked, he wasted no time in reclaiming his hand's former position. This time he felt the unencumbered hardness. His mind felt so freed, that he honestly was enjoying touching more than being touched. This was what being with another man was like. He leaned into Logan's lips, initiating the osculation with fervor. The taste of cigar was that arousing flavor of Logan, his friend and now lover.

His grip on Logan wasn't gentle, automatically emulating how he held himself while masturbating. His large hand covered the soft pink flesh almost completely.

Logan bit into his own lip at the sweet rhythm that Hank was pounding with his cock. He had never jacked off with gloves on or anything and the shocking softness of Hank's fur was intense. He attempted to concentrate on what his own hand was doing to Hank, but between the skilled job that was being performed on him and the wet mouth nipping at his lips, chin, and neck, he could feel his mind drifting into that pre-orgasmic state. As much as he wanted to just let go and allow that three month foreplay to come to an abrupt ending, he was hesitant to come so quickly and provide fodder for Hank to tease him.

Body to body, their hands bumping into each other's as they moved up and down, Hank felt pulsingly alive. He felt the increased shudders from his companion, his lover, and he worked his hand quicker, eager to see that release. Instinct took over and he raised his lips up to Logan's exposed ear and in a burst of naughty inspiration whispered, "Come Logan, come." Ororo had loved dirty talk, an action that was as strange to him as ballet dancing, but this was Logan and Hank had no idea whether he liked dirty talk or not.

With a groan, Logan convulsed, his cock letting go of the months of blue balls Hank had given him. The release nearly broke his fucking mind. Over and over he rode the waves of his orgasm, so overwhelmingly powerful that he saw spots. He heard Hank's breath catch, watched the surprise in his eyes, as the large blue man found his own release. The two shook and shivered together, clutching tightly together on the jungle floor.

For the next ten minutes, they lay panting, sticky, and completely sated. Logan was impressed by how long it took his vision to get back to lining up so that he only saw one of each tree around them. There were few other times that he'd come that had been that powerful. Hank had made his way to the top five definitely. The jungle atmosphere was so humid that his sweat wasn't evaporating, even after the sex was done with. He sighed happily and grabbed the other man tighter.

Hank allowed himself to be used as a large teddy bear; Ororo had done it all the time. "That was... intense."

Logan laughed. "Yeah, that's what three months of fucking foreplay can do. My balls were bluer than your fur."

He shouldn't have been surprised at the admission, but he still was. It felt good to have someone lusting after him. His ego appreciated the compliment.

"God damn it's hot," complained Logan, loosening his hold.

Hank's fur was wet from sweat and their body fluids, so he agreed. "We should probably clean ourselves. Do you think that we have been here for an hour?"

They had reserved the room for an hour, which was plenty of time to run through a simulation. It was a Friday night and there had been a spot open even on the short notice since most of the normal looking mutants would want to go out. Hank had taken the hour before Colossus had requested. He did not want to be rude by tarrying into the Russian's assigned slot.

"Oh probably. We should give the room time to cool down anyway. It's a sauna." He sat up, his naked back presenting an attractive distraction for Hank. "My head's still messed up."

Hank petted his enticing Latissimus Dorsi softly and with fascination. He hadn't had much of an opportunity to explore Logan naked. He would remedy that next time, even if it was shocking that he was already planning subsequent trysts.

Logan looked back at Hank and grinned. "You mind if I get some clothes on?"

Hank bit his lip and then nodded. It was flattering enough to draw a kiss from Logan. He was motivated and so the joining of lips was brief, so that he could fetch his jeans. While he did so, Hank looked at just how gross he was, fur matted with bodily juices. The thought of putting pants over all that wasn't a pleasant one, but he couldn't very well walk out of the danger room naked and slimy. So, he too rooted around for his pants. They were a few feet away near the tree that that they had made love under or whatever it was they had done.

The jungle scene fizzled away suddenly and Hank looked around startled and a bit afraid. The room was white and empty save for bundles of clothes, both their shirts at opposite sides, and Logan smiling at the control panel.

"Logan!" he cried out in shock.

"Relax, I locked the doors right after I shut it off," Logan assured.

The danger room doors automatically unlocked when a program was completed, so no matter how quickly Logan reset the locks, there was a moment when Hank was in front of a door that was capable of being opened from the outside while naked and covered in ejaculate. He glared at Logan. "You could not have waited until I was clothed?"

Logan strolled easily over to the lump that was his shirt. He didn't seem perturbed in the least by the minute risk at which he had placed them. "Thought it'd be easier to find them without all the fake trees. I can turn it back on if you want," he offered mockingly.

Annoyed or not, Hank did not wish to stand around in his current state arguing, so he walked to his shirt as well. He hated the idea of walking around the mansion without his shirt, but he needed to wipe up as much of the mess as he could before putting his pants back on. He lifted the white shirt and frowned at it.

A wad of fabric struck him in the side of the head with a loud smack. As it fell to the ground, anger was already coursing through him. "What do you think you're doing?" he said in a loud voice that would have been easily interpreted as a yell, if Hank ever yelled.

Logan grinned that smug smile of his with arms crossed. "You can use it. You know, for the mess. I don't need it."

It took several moments for Hank's emotions to flip as the chivalrous gesture sunk in. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

He cleaned himself up as best he could without water, tricky for fur, before dressing. The apparel felt like a costume. He was pretending to be the Hank he had been when he gone into the danger room.

"You ready?" asked Logan. He looked bored as he leaned against the wall next to the control panel.

Hank took a deep breath. "Yes, I suppose I am."

Even though Hank had told him that he was ready, Logan waited a minute before unlocking the door. He had heard the hesitation in his friend's tone. He had already seen what a terrible actor Hank was this morning with Ororo. He was kinda looking forward to seeing how Hank portrayed a guy that hadn't just had sex with his best friend. At the same time, he did like Hank, and he didn't want him to be actually unhappy. So, he paused, allowing time for Hank to summon up some courage before releasing the mechanism.

Logan stepped through the door and saw Piotr sitting on the floor opposite the danger room door. "Hey, you up next?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

Piotr smiled and stood. "Yeah, you guys went over."

"By how much?" Logan asked.

The hulking Russian shrugged. "Ten or fifteen."

Logan patted the man's shoulder. "Man, you should have Chuck compensate you for that missed time."

"A dollar a minute?"

"Oh, he's got enough money for more than that." Logan looked back from where he had come and where Hank had failed to appear.

Piotr chuckled at the joke. "Yeah, but shouldn't you be paying me?"

Logan pretended to consider the option. The danger room door finally slid back open to reveal Hank. "I tell you what, he can pick up the tab." He gestured with his chin towards Hank. With another slap to Piotr's shoulder, Logan headed away from the danger room, back to the bathroom on the wing of the mansion where his room was. He figured that Hank could do a better job at not looking just fucked without him. Hank would have just kept looking at him, incriminating the both of them with his worried eyes.

Hank watched Logan take off down the hall and thought about running after him. He could offer his private shower, but that was still his licentious side speaking to him. He smiled at Piotr. "What tab?"

* * *

For the first time since that fateful Mississippi night, Hank's mind was not overloading with self-analysis. He and Logan had gone to that place that he so feared going. He had come away from it better than okay; he was feeling more comfortable with himself than he could ever remember feeling. Someone wanted him and he was amazed by his own capacity to reciprocate that desire. Within his limited romantic experience, he hadn't known that a person could be friends with a lover. With Ororo, he had tip-toed around, intensely afraid that she would uncover an aspect of his personality that he was uncomfortable showing. Logan knew his faults already, had seen his hidden habits, and was interested regardless. What could have been more flattering?

As for how Hank felt, he was charmed by Logan. It was comfortable to chat, sensual to be intimate, and fun to play together both verbally and physically. The awkwardness was totally gone, as far from memory as those days before their pool bet, before Hank had ever noticed his unwanted attraction.

Hank enjoyed the shower for a long time, all ecological conscience out the window with his homosexual preconceptions. His fur was clean and all evidence of his danger room indiscretion was erased. He had just finished blow drying the bulk of water off his fur when he heard a knock at the door.

"Just a moment!" Hank called. Though he was fairly sure that he wouldn't need to be fully dressed for the company he was about to entertain, he pulled on his tan slacks and white button shirt. He only began buttoning the shirt as he strolled to the closed door, anticipation of seeing Logan already pulling his lips into a smile. This slipped from his face the moment he saw the lovely unexpected guest.

Ororo Munroe looked up at him with eyes that had that intoxicating blend of feral and royal immersed in their depths. His confidence shattered like one of Storm's icicles hitting its targets. As always, he felt tongue-tied and clumsy, two things that Hank certainly was not predisposed to. "Ororo," he gasped. "I... um... Would you care to come in?"

She nodded, just once with regal decisiveness.

As she glided past him into the room, he could smell her scent, always so appealing. The aroma was sunshine and rain, hot desert and tropical rainforest all in one. He shut the door and felt the pounding in his heart when he saw that she had taken a seat on his bed. He had made love to her on that bed, trying so desperately hard to be the perfect lover, wanting to give her the all pleasure a goddess deserved. It was achingly hard to see her there now; the old memories boiled inside his mind making the space between his eyes hurt with the pressure.

"I came to speak to you because there are things that I need to know." She was avoiding direct eye contact, but her body language was open and relaxed. He recognized easily that she was putting up a facade of comfort; he knew her too well for that to slip by. "If I ask you questions about you and Logan, can I rely on you to answer me honestly?"

Now it was not only his heart, but his stomach, that he could feel as though in his hand and not buried deep in his flesh. He was suddenly awash in nervousness. The encounter with Logan was so recent and his newfound certainty was so delicately built that he found his palms beginning to itch, a sign of sweating beneath his fur.

He coughed. He looked down at her, waiting for an answer, and staring off to the side as though entranced by the light coming in the window. With a great sigh he said, "I'm not sure how comfortable I am with this."

"Is that a no?" she asked.

He shook his head quickly. "Has there ever been anything that I wasn't willing to do for you?"

For a second she looked at him with the smallest of a smile in the corner of her lip, but then her gaze switched back to the window. "I guess I just need to understand."

"Yes, it was hard for me to understand as well."

"Are you lovers?"

The words were so direct, which was very Ororo-like. He felt as though his entire integumentary system was reacting. Good lord, was he breaking into hives over how nervous this conversation was making him? Still, there was really only one answer wasn't there, especially after the events in the danger room? "Yes."

One of her delicate hands fluttered to her throat, as if trying to still her pulse. Her eyes shut for a moment and he worried that he had hurt her feelings by answering honestly. "Ororo..." he started but she raised a hand.

"No, I asked. There is no reason to console me. I needed to hear it. I guessed, but to hear that I was correct. I suppose it shouldn't hurt like it does."

It hurt? He dropped down to one knee before her and looked at her closely. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. Now he wished he could take back the honestly spoken words, because he could not bear to have caused her pain. He reached out a hand to rest on her knee. "Ororo, I'm sorry."

She laughed, a sound that didn't meet her eyes. She looked on the verge of tears, a thing he could not recall seeing before. "And do you love him? Does he love you?"

That question he could not answer because he truly did not know. There was a time when he wouldn't have even considered the possibility and now he knew only that what he felt towards Logan he had felt towards no other person. It wasn't better or worse than he felt about Ororo, but so utterly different as to be a completely different classification. Logan was a friend and now a lover, but were they in love? Love for Hank had always meant an overwhelming, all-encompassing obsession, but could he deny how loved he felt only an hour ago with his lips and body pressed against Logan? Oh surely most of that could be written off as lust, but Hank didn't know where the line was between best friend with physical intimacy and boyfriend. He had entered into a new world, one he hadn't even had time to explore before someone was asking him for its definition.

"I cannot say," he said. "In either case."

Her hand moved upwards to her lips, her face shrouded in thought. The absence of any negation scared her for reasons she could not even give voice to. Hank was different and for the first time ever, she felt that she didn't know him. He wasn't even sure if he was in love with another man and not just any man, but Logan. If she was surprised by any homosexual tendencies in Hank, it was infinitely more astounding to imagine Logan doing such things.

To hear that there was a possibility that Hank was in love with Logan was nearly debilitating to her nerves. She was fighting to keep control of her emotions, determined not to have another loss of weather control. Still, she could feel the slight tremble in her hands. A sure sign that she didn't have the kind of control she needed.

"Ororo, are you alright?" Hank asked, gripping her leg tighter. He could see that she was shaking.

"Oh Hank," she rattled as a tear leaked from one of her exceptional blue eyes. Her arms wound around his shoulders and before he could comprehend what was happening, he was holding the crying woman, running a comforting hair down her silky white hair. He was bewildered and yet sad, even as uncomprehending as he was.

He began making little shushing noises, unable to think of any more logical words. He simply had not the foggiest idea of what was wrong, why she should be in tears over his dalliances with Logan. Even in his confusion, he couldn't ignore how good it felt to hold her, how welcome that wild fragrance was to his nostrils. Then he was remembering how nice it was to kiss her lips and it wasn't just reminiscing, because their lips had somehow managed to come together somewhere in the middle of this emotional outburst. All he'd been doing was holding her and now he could feel the softness of her kisses and taste the salty tears.

Ororo pulled back sharply as soon as she became conscious of what she was doing, of what she had started. She stared into Hank's wide eyes as her hand covered her misbehaving mouth. She had initiated the kiss as if the past ten months with Kurt had never happened, as if she was an unattached low-moral woman who was perfectly content with moving in on another man's lover. Hank wasn't just some taken man though, he had been hers and she was consumed by the regret of letting him go. She didn't realize it until this moment how much she had missed him.

"Oh Hank. I am so sorry," she gushed all at once, her hands making exaggerated movements in her shock. She rose quickly from the bed, her knees bumping against him as she did so. He watched as she scurried to the door and he rose to follow. "I am so sorry," she repeated.

"Ororo," he called as her hand gripped the doorknob. "Wait."

She shook her head. He could hear her breathing, as if she had been running and not just kissing, but then it had had a similar effect on him. "I... I need to think about this. Time to think about what I'm feeling." She wiped at her eyes, the streaks glistening on her deep brown cheeks. "I will come back. Please forgive me."

"I forgive you," he said quietly. Regardless of what had occurred in the last five minutes, not that he felt there was anything to apologize for, he would forgive her in all situations.

She nodded and pulled open the door. She nearly took a step back when she saw Logan in front of her. He looked just as surprised to see her and they stared at each other for very long seconds before she slid past him, not even bothering to make an excuse in her haste. She headed towards the stairs in a pace quick enough to be nearly running.

Logan watched as she jetted off. She had been crying; he could tell from the red lining her eyes and how large her nose had looked, probably full of snot. With a curious look, he peeked into Hank's open room. Hank was standing agape just beyond reach of the door, looking in astonishment at Logan, but he got the impression that it wasn't him that Hank was surprised to see. He looked back to the now empty hallway and then back into Hank's room. "What the hell is up with Stormy?"

Hank rubbed his forehead before turning hurt eyes towards Logan. Even though he hadn't been there, Logan got it. "I see," he said. In that competition, he was always gonna lose out. He swallowed at the hard lump in his throat. What had been a great day now turned into a bitch of a night. It took courage, but he managed to say, "Be careful there Fuzzy" before heading off down the hallway. He had planned to visit with Hank, but those times would be over now. If Ororo wanted Hank back, that was it. He hid his hurt, an almost electric pain, deep down and walked away.

It seemed impossible, but Hank felt more alone than he had before being kissed by two different people in one day. He closed the door and ruminated.

* * *

Author's note: And that is all for this segment. :) I'll be wrapping up this arc in another installment. I usually hate love triangles, so I'm kinda surprised this turned into one. In the next set you'll see just how little I grasp the character of Ororo. Women stump me, which is why I write dudes. And yes, I am a woman. That still doesn't help. Anyway, if you have liked it so far, please review. It's a very weird pairing and I doubt many people would even dare to click on it after reading the summary. Any opinions on the conflict between Storm and Logan vying for the love of the blue fuzzy academic? I'm gonna shut up now. Damn long winded authors...


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